


What Was Always His To Take

by hunters_retreat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Backseat-Lucifer!Sam, Extremely Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, The End AU, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He closed his eyes and prayed to a God that had abandoned them.  He prayed to an angel that no longer heard him.  He prayed to every angel in existence, but no one answered his pleas.  When he opened his eyes, he could see the Morningstar lurking behind Sam’s eyes though as if he had heard, the same compassion in his presence that Sam wore so openly on his face. </p>
            </blockquote>





	What Was Always His To Take

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [](http://sammessiah.livejournal.com/profile)[sammessiah](http://sammessiah.livejournal.com/) anti-christmas exchange.  This is for [](http://my-sam-dean.livejournal.com/profile)[my_sam_dean](http://my-sam-dean.livejournal.com/) !  I went with the idea of Sam protecting Dean and Dean being reliant on Sam for everything.  I really hope you enjoy it!

 

“Please.”

The word left Dean’s lips before he could stop it.  It had been building, choking him for days alongside the relentless needs that filled him.  It used to be different, but he was having a hard time remembering that. 

Sam stared at him from across the room; white, shocked eyes turning hazel at Dean’s words.  It’d been days since he’d allowed himself to speak, afraid of what might come out if he did.  He didn’t kid himself that he was beyond begging.  It had taken Alastair 30 years to find the right places to push and pull to break him.  Sam knew him far better.

He bit his bottom lip, and then pressed top and bottom together in a thin line as if he could deny the words had risen from his need.  Sam smiled though, the first time Dean could remember seeing a real smile on his brother’s face since the whole thing had begun.  He couldn’t even deny it was Sam anymore.  Lucifer might be riding his brother like a toddler at the pony rides but his brother was there too, words and touch and the light of his eyes giving him away in ways that no one else would ever know. 

He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see his brother’s approach.  At least he’d gotten rid of the white suit.  He wasn’t sure what had surprised him the most in that clearing; Lucifer smiling at him with Sam’s face or the fact that he was wearing a white suit.  Honestly, he was leaning towards the suit part.  That he’d just walked in on Morningstar-Sammy killing him didn’t really fit in the picture.  Hell, he’d always known he’d die because of Sam (at his hands or to save him was really just a moot point) so the proof of it just seemed right. 

“Anything you want, Dean,” Sam whispered in his ear and Dean nearly jumped at how close his brother was except he was trussed up ten ways to Sunday and couldn’t move an inch.  “You just have to tell me.”

He opened his eyes and Sam was right there, eyes so full of warmth and concern.  Love.  The truly horrifying thing was that Lucifer didn’t lie.  As much as Dean wanted him to, wanted to know the things he said were nothing but filth and illusion meant to break him, he knew.  Since Lucifer had let free Sam’s dirty little secret his brother hadn’t even bothered to hide it. 

It was Lucifer that had tied Dean up though, denying him anything that wasn’t delivered by his brother’s hand.  No matter how Dean cajoled and threatened, neither demon nor human would give him anything.  Not even Lucifer would.  Only Sam could give him what he needed.

“Water, please Sam.”

Sam’s hand came up, his thumb brushing away tears Dean didn’t know were falling.  As arid as his tongue felt, he didn’t know his body had enough moisture left to weep.  When Sam pulled away, Dean dropped his head to hide the shame he felt when Sam sent the servants away.  Shame because he was grateful to his brother for respecting his privacy.  Shame because he was grateful Sam was letting him cry without the company of demons.  Shame because he was begging for a cup of water from Sam’s hand.

He knew his brother’s touch and when a hand cupped his chin he didn’t struggle.  Lucifer was still buried and it was only Lucifer who was allowed to hurt Dean.  Dean shivered at the gentleness of Sam’s touch, trying to bite back his body’s reaction to anything – anything- that wasn’t meant to hurt or demean.  Sam never did any of those things -  in fact most of the demons and human servants of the Morningstar weren’t allowed to even see Dean, let alone touch him – but his touch was all the worse for it.  He craved Sam’s touch as much as he craved the water. 

He kept his eyes closed as Sam pulled his head up, feeling his brother’s assessing eyes on him.  He might have squirmed under it but the ropes that bound him didn’t allow that.  If he could he’d try to hide his reaction to Sam, but he’d long gotten used to being naked in front of the others.  Beyond Sam’s attraction to him, Lucifer seemed to enjoy the view as well.  After the Devil was done playing with Dean, after whatever torture he was done committing, Dean was bound, calf to thigh, elbow to elbow, with his body upright in a kneeling position.  Exhausted and starving and unable to do anything more than stay upright, he was left open and vulnerable to anyone that wanted to see.

He felt the mouth of the bottle pressed against his lips and he opened, Sam tilting the bottle just right to give him enough without being cruel about it.  Sam made him take a few stops but he didn’t deprive him either the way Lucifer had in the beginning, before the rules about Sam began.

“You can have more in a few minutes,” Sam whispered when the bottle was pulled from his lips.  “You need to let it settle in your stomach or you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice came out as a low rasp and he wished he didn’t sound so weak.  No water in two days though and nothing to eat for four.  He knew he needed to be strong to survive but if he gave in to what Sam was doing it would be everything, his very soul up for grabs.  It wasn’t even Lucifer that was doing the real damage, but Sam wasn’t entirely the same brother he’d grown up protecting.  He was a danger in his own right, Lucifer’s right hand man so to speak, and he had plans for Dean.  Plans Dean didn’t think he could so easily deny anymore.  So he kept his damn mouth shut.

He felt his brother’s forehead against his own, Sam’s hand at the back of his neck.  His thumb stroked across the nape, sending shivers down his spine and he bit back a moan, wishing like hell he could will his erection away or at least cover the traitor.

“Why do you have to make everything so hard, Dean?” Sam asked quietly.  “It’s not the way we wanted things to work out, but I couldn’t let them hurt you.  You know that.  All I ever did was to protect you.  You weren’t there, you didn’t see the things that happened to us.  Why the angels thought sending you into the future where I could find you was a good idea is beyond me.  They had to know I would find you.”

Dean looked up, unable to answer because he certainly didn’t have a clue.  Whatever the angels had planned, he doubted that sending Dean to watch Sam kill his future self was it.  He doubted they wanted him captured before he could return to them to fulfill their supposed destiny by saying yes to Michael.

“You love me, Dean.”   Sam said simply.  “I know it hasn’t happened to you yet, but before it all went to hell, you told me.  You don’t have to hide anymore, Dean.  Please, just let me help me.  Tell me what you want.”

Dean looked at his brother’s anxious face and had to choke back a sob that wanted to be a plea.  “I can’t…”

Sam watched him for a few minutes before standing up, staring down with compassion filled eyes.  “Tell me you want food.”

It was their father’s tone, the voice of authority that Dean had always felt compelled to follow.  Sam was giving him an out, allowing him to follow where Sam ordered, as he had once blindly followed their father.  He shouldn’t give in to that voice, but Jesus how he wanted to.

He closed his eyes and prayed to a God that had abandoned them.  He prayed to an angel that no longer heard him.  He prayed to every angel in existence, but no one answered his pleas.  When he opened his eyes, he could see the Morningstar lurking behind Sam’s eyes though as if he had heard, the same compassion in his presence that Sam wore so openly on his face. 

Another sob escaped and he looked to the ground as he finally broke.  “I want food.”

There was a sharp gasp from above but then Sam was on his knees, right  in front of Dean before he could find his way clear of the break.

“Tell me you want to stay with me.”

“I want to stay with you,” he whispered.

“Tell me you won’t ever leave me, even if I take off the ropes.”

He looked up then because he didn’t know how Sam could ever think he could walk away for good.  Not in 2009, and not in 2014.  “I’d never leave you, Sammy.”

He felt the ropes dissolve across his skin and he groaned as the circulation tried to come back to his unbound body.  Sam was there, holding him upright, pulling him tight against his chest.  The once empty room was suddenly filled with a huge bed and table overladen with food.  Sam was lifting him though, pulling him away from his spot in the corner to lay him down on the soft mattress and silky sheets.

When Sam pressed his lips to Dean’s, he didn’t fight it.  He opened to Sam, let his brother take what he needed.

“Tell me you want this, Dean, tell me you want me.  Tell me you’ll be my consort, my lover, my right hand.  Tell me you’ll defend me against my enemies and honor my allies.” 

The words had a formal note to them and Dean understood exactly what Sam was asking of him.  When he opened his mouth he found it remarkably easy to take the last of his will and bend it into something else, forcing himself to become the enforcer of the Morningstar instead of playing the part of the good son, always willing to sacrifice himself to keep Sam on the straight and narrow.

“I am yours,” he said softly, for the first time reaching up and running his still tingling fingers clumsily through his brother’s hair.  “I will defend you against all enemies and promote you among your allies.  I am and always will be yours.”

When Sam took his lips in a gently sweep of a kiss, he let him take what was always his to take.  With the seal of a kiss, Sam claimed his obedience.  He claimed his body.  And he claimed Dean’s immortal soul.

 

 


End file.
